Strange Voices
by qwerty-kitties
Summary: UNINTENTIONAL ONESHOT - When Arnold wakes up one morning able to hear people's thoughts, things start to get interesting. - Written years ago and never finished.  Enjoy what there is.


_I warn you beforehand, this is a long one. It was yet another idea that popped into my head a few years ago and I started banging away at it before it fizzled out. It's about 18 pages in Word, and stops kind of suddenly. But, as most of these unfinished ones, I like how it came out and decided to toss it up._

_Enjoy what there is of it!_

* * *

Arnold stood at the edge of a tall cliff, breathing the salty air and gazing out at the raging ocean. The waves crashing against the cliff-side below sounded almost like human voices, whispering words he couldn't quite make out. The waves' intensity increased, showering him with droplets of salty rain.

The noise slowly grew in volume until it reached a fever pitch. Arnold covered his ears, but the noise continued to intensify. It seemed to be coming from inside his head.

Arnold went to his knees, his hands pressing almost painfully against his ears as he tried desperately to shut out the chaotic sounds. Just as he thought the sound would drive him mad, he jerked awake, a small cry escaping his lips.

_Jeez,_ he thought as he looked around at the familiar sights of his room. _What a weird dream._ He climbed out of bed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

As he straightened his covers, he became aware of a soft whispering. He stopped and stood still, listening. After a moment, he shrugged, passing it off as the radiator or passersby outside. Once his bed was remade, he glanced at the clock. Six forty-five. Figuring there was no sense in going back to sleep, Arnold sighed and headed for the shower. The odd noise disappeared under the sound of water hitting tile, and after a short while, Arnold had almost forgotten the dream entirely.

He dressed for school and headed downstairs. The odd whispering had returned, but the other boarders were up and moving around, so he didn't give it much thought.

"Morning Kimba!" Grandma greeted cheerily. "Did my mighty hunter sleep well?" Arnold rolled his eyes slightly.

"Actually Grandma, I mean Bwuana, I had a pretty strange dream last night."

"Strange dream?" Grandma/Bwuana repeated. "Sounds like Voo-doo!"

Grandma grabbed a nearby shawl and draped it across her shoulders. She assumed the posture and air of a fortune-teller.

"Grandma . . ." Arnold groaned as the woman sat across the table from him and took his hand.

"Hush, young one," Grandma said in a faraway voice. "The spirits must have complete silence if they are to communicate with those of the mortal plane." Arnold was used to his grandma's playacting, but this was a new one. She looked at his palm intently, tracing the fine lines with her bi-speckled eyes.

"Hmm . . . yes . . ." she murmured. "I see . . . darkness . . ." Arnold felt a bit uneasy as a faint wisp of his dream resurfaced.

"What is it Grandma?" Grandma looked up at him.

"You need to wash your hands better." Arnold rolled his eyes as he took his hand back.

"Okay, Grandma."

Arnold stumbled slightly as he entered the dining room. For a second, he could have sworn someone had whispered directly into his ear. He shook his head to clear it.

_Get a grip Arnold_.

"But Suzie I-" Oskar Kokosha whined to his wife.

"Oskar, I need your paper route paycheck! We've got bills to pay and my salary isn't enough to cover them all!" Suzie said sternly.

Oskar continued to whine and make excuses. Arnold was used to tuning out most of the boarders' conversations, so he ate his breakfast while absorbed in his own thoughts. He was unconsciously rubbing the back of his head.

"Something wrong, Short Man?" his Grandpa asked.

"Huh? No, I'm just-" Arnold pulled his hand away from his head. What _was_ he doing?

"I was just scratching an itch, that's all," the boy answered.

"Probably something Kokoshka brought in . . ." Grandpa muttered.

"I didn't! I've been working hard even though the dogs hate me, I deliver the papers everyday," Oskar moaned. Ernie snickered.

"Yeah, you work a whole two hours while da rest of us sit around here. Better take a vacation soon or you'll collapse," he said sarcastically.

_Crazy_, Mr. Hyuhn said as Arnold turned to him. _They . . . crazy._ Arnold stared at the man with wide eyes.

Mr. Hyuhn's mouth didn't move.

_. . . crazy . . everyone . . . house is crazy . . ._ the man finished. Arnold continued to stare. Mr. Hyuhn continued to eat his breakfast.

_Holy cow_, the boy thought. _I . . . I think I'm actually hearing his thoughts!_

"Arnold?" Mr. Hyunh asked in his thick Vietnamese accent. "Is something wrong? Why are you staring at me?" Arnold thought quickly.

"Oh, uh . . . you've just got some egg on your shirt." _What is going on here?_

"Are you okay, Short Man?" Phil asked. "You look a little shaken up."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired, I guess," Arnold said, not quite meeting his grandfather's eyes. He felt bad about lying, but what else could he say? 'Gee, Grampa, I think I'm hearing Mr. Hyunh's thoughts and guess it just startled me a little.'? His grandfather may be easy to talk to, but how could Arnold explain something that even HE thought was insane?

The man looked down at his grandson. The boy was fidgeting in his seat, and he wouldn't look anyone in the eyes.

_Lying_, Arnold heard Grandpa think. _. . . lying . . . why?_

"I'm not l-" Arnold started to reply, then stopped.

"You're not . . . ?" Grandpa asked. Arnold felt as if everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to finish.

"I'm not . . . llllate, but I will be if I don't get moving!" he stammered, gathering his breakfast dishes. "I think I'm just tired from waking up so early this morning." Phil raised an eyebrow and watched as Arnold hurriedly stacked the dishes.

"Oookay," he said. Everyone was staring at Arnold now, and he could feel his cheeks burn as he turned a deep shade of red. He gulped down the last of his orange juice.

"I'd better get going . . ." he said as he scooped up his dishes and practically ran to the kitchen. He had to get away from the thoughts of his grandfather and the boarders. They made him feel all the more guilty for lying.

Arnold grabbed his backpack and ran out of the boarding house, still feeling the stares from the people he thought of as his family. He continued running until he had arrived at the bus stop, where Gerald was waiting for him.

"Hey man, what's up?" he asked. Arnold offered his dark friend a shaky smile as he caught his breath.

"Heh. You wouldn't believe it, Gerald."

"_I_ wouldn't believe it? Let me guess. Lila likes you likes you again."

"If only, Gerald. If only."

"Then what is it, man?" Gerald insisted. "C'mon, spill."

_I can't tell Gerald about this,_ Arnold thought. _He'd think I was nuts! Besides, I haven't 'heard' anything since leaving the boarding house. Maybe I just THOUGHT I could hear them because I know them so well. Maybe . . . maybe it was just a fluke or something. _

"C'mon Arnold, what's going on?" Gerald demanded. Arnold sighed and distractedly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"Gerald," he started cautiously. "Do you think people can read minds?" Gerald raised an eyebrow.

"Read minds? Arnold, have you been reading those paranormal books again?" Arnold smiled and shook his head.

"No, it's not that. It's just that I . . . well . . . This morning, I . . ."

_. . . he trying . . . can . . . read minds?_ Gerald wore an expression of disbelief. Arnold's heart thumped loudly in his ears. So much for the breakfast incident just being a 'fluke'.

"I had a dream about reading minds, that's all," the blonde answered.

"Really?" Gerald asked, not quite believing him. Arnold nodded, smiling weakly.

"Really," he answered. "It was just a really strange dream, that's all. Kinda shook me up."

"Ooookay . . ." Gerald said as the bus pulled up.

_. . . lying?_ Gerald climbed onto the bus without another word. Arnold felt terrible. The whispering in his head increased slightly as he climbed aboard.

_Great,_ he thought glumly. _Now my best friend thinks I'm a liar. Which I am. What is happening to me?_

Arnold sat down next to Gerald, and tried to keep his mind active to keep from hearing his friend's thoughts. He became aware of the thoughts coming from the other kids on the bus. They ran through his mind like water through a sieve.

_. . . homework . . . durn hard . . . _from Stinky.

_. . . gotta finish . . ._ from Sid as he scribbled in a notebook.

_. . . so hungry! _ Harold thought, rubbing his grumbling belly.

_. . . shopping . . . cool . . ._ from Rhonda.

_. . . wonder . . . test . . . today . . . _ Phoebe thought as she looked out the window.

Arnold looked around at his classmates. His friends. Reading their thoughts was a little like reading a page from their personal journals, and that made him feel like he was invading their privacy. But he couldn't seem to help it. He had no idea what was happening, let alone how to stop it. All he could do was try and tune out what he did 'hear'.

The bus pulled to a stop and Helga climbed aboard.

_Hmm . . ._ Arnold thought. _I wonder what goes on in HER mind._ She stormed past him, scowling as usual. She noticed him staring at her, and frowned.

"What are YOU looking at, Football Head?" she asked impatiently.

_. . . Arnold . . . if only . . . _ Arnold cocked an eyebrow slightly.

"Sorry, Helga," he said and watched Helga flop down next to Phoebe. He tried to stay 'tuned' to Helga as she talked with her friend.

_What was she thinking about?_ Arnold wondered.

"Criminey, Phoebs," the blonde said sarcastically. "Some people just have nothing better to do than STARE!"

_Oh . . . . . . . . if . . . . . look . . . my . . . . . ._ Helga's thoughts were, for some reason, fuzzier than the others. This puzzled Arnold.

_Why would her thoughts be so hard to pick up?_

For the rest of the ride to school, Arnold heard the various rambling and disjointed thoughts from his friends. All but Helga. Her thoughts seemed all but closed off to him. Curiosity nibbled at his mind about this.

The bus arrived at school and Helga shoved her way off, with Phoebe trailing closely behind.

_I hope I can concentrate in class today,_ Arnold thought as he stepped off the bus. The whispering in his head grew slightly louder as he made his way to the familiar building. Arnold took his seat in Mr. Simmons' classroom, making a mental note to try and avoid listening to his friends' thoughts.

_It won't be easy, but I'll have to try_, he thought as he took out a pencil.

Throughout the morning, Arnold had to struggle to concentrate on his schoolwork. The last class before lunch, math, was the hardest to get through. Thoughts came at him from every direction.

_. . . don't get . . . hard!_ from an upset Stinky.

_. . . no! . . scuff . . . !_ from an irate Rhonda as she looked at her new boots.

_. . . theory . . . calculations . . . correct . . ._ from an absorbed Phoebe. Arnold glanced at her and noticed how intent she was in the lesson. Her pencil moved feverishly as she worked problem after problem. She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't notice Arnold looking at her. Helga, on the other hand, who sat right behind Phoebe, did.

"What?" she hissed at him. Arnold glanced at Helga, surprised that she'd noticed him.

_. . . . . Arnold . . . . . . . . you . . . . would . . . . _

_Why can't I hear her?_ Arnold thought, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Arnold, turn around please," Mr. Simmons said, regaining the boy's attention. A few of the kids snickered as Arnold turned back around, his face red.

"Sorry, Mr. Simmons," he muttered.

_Odd . . . not like . . . _his teacher thought. Arnold dropped his eyes.

_This is going to be hard, _he thought. _I hope it goes away soon. I don't know how long I can take this._

The rest of the class passed slowly. Whenever Arnold was called on to answer questions, Phoebe's thoughts seemed to hone in on him, giving him the correct answers. He felt a little bad about 'cheating' of off Phoebe like that, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't seem to 'shut off' the thing in his head.

_It'll be lunchtime soon. I just have to hold out until then. It's bound to be easier than class,_ he thought, rubbing his head. He was developing a slight headache.

He kept getting little snippets of thoughts from the other people in the room, and tried to ignore them. Sometimes, however, they were hard to ignore.

Like Harold's mental whining about his empty belly.

Or the music from 'Rats' running steadily through Eugene's head.

Or the scathing fashion critique Rhonda was concentrating on.

Arnold vaguely wondered how any of his classmates could finish their lessons or homework if their minds were constantly occupied with these kinds of thoughts. But, then again, people usually only have their OWN thoughts running through their minds, and not a conglomeration of all their classmates'.

_At least I'm only getting little bits and pieces and not EVERYTHING,_ he thought with a little sigh. _I'm not sure I could handle it if every single thought came through loud and clear. Still, I wonder why Helga's thoughts are so incoherent? I can barely get anything from her, even when I concentrate. Weird._

It was five minutes to lunch, and Harold's thoughts of food and hunger were overriding everything else in Arnold's mind. He prayed that he would not be called on. With all of Harold's thoughts rolling around in his head, Arnold didn't think he could string two words together that did not include 'hungry', 'starving', 'food', or 'lunch'.

Thankfully, the lunch bell rang shortly thereafter, and the classroom cleared out quickly. Arnold lagged behind, slowly getting his things together. He thought about his newfound 'ability' and wondered how he had come by it. Why him? How did he get it? How long was it going to last? It didn't seem like anyone else could do this, so he assumed he was the only one 'afflicted'. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

As he headed to his locker, he noticed that the clamoring in his head was diminishing. The headache that had started earlier seemed to be fading as well. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. He could handle this.

The rest of the day went much like the morning, and Arnold was surprised to discover that he seemed to be getting used to his unintentional mental eavesdropping. In fact, if he concentrated hard enough, he could hear entire thoughts instead of just a few words. But it took a lot of concentration and gave him a headache if he tried for too long, so he stopped. By the time he joined his 'family' for supper that night, he had gotten his 'power' under control enough to act normally, much to his grandfather's relief.

**~X~X~X~**

The next morning dawned gray and dreary, with the threat of rain looming constantly. Arnold noticed that the voices were a little louder than they had been the day before, and he was getting more complete thoughts. They were also harder to tune out than before. His schoolwork began to suffer. He just couldn't concentrate on the lessons with all that noise in his head.

Because the 'power' seemed to be intensifying, Arnold couldn't be around a large group of people without being overwhelmed with their thoughts. Even two or three people caused a jumble of noise in his head. It destroyed his ability to concentrate or even think clearly, and gave him a monster of a headache.

By the third day, he could barely hear himself think because of all the invading voices. They were louder than ever, and seemed to multiply every hour. Worse yet, he was starting to experience the emotions that went along with the various thoughts. He would burst into tears for no apparent reason, then become furiously angry with someone miles away. He was doing his best to keep everything under control, but his friends noticed the sudden change in his behavior and worried about him.

As the lunch bell rang, he waited until the classroom had cleared and the halls quieted before even getting up from his desk. The solitude did nothing to quiet the noise in his head now, but this way he didn't have to try and have a coherent conversation with anyone. He was having a hard enough time keeping his emotions in check. And his headache was a constant companion now.

_This is getting really bad,_ he thought glumly as he made his way to his locker. _I don't know how much more of this I can take. What am I going to do?_

Gerald was waiting for him, leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "What's up with you lately? You're acting weird." Arnold offered his friend a weak smile.

"Sorry, Gerald. I'm just not feeling well lately." His dark skinned friend studied him for a moment.

_Boy, he's really pale. I hope he's okay. Maybe he's just been studying too hard or something._

"You don't look so hot, Arnold," he said quietly. "Maybe you should see the nurse or something." Arnold nodded, which did nothing good for his headache. Gerald's worry was also giving his stomach a good squeeze.

"Yeah, I'll probably do that. You go on to lunch and I'll see you later." Gerald cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

"Are you sure? I'm really worried about you, man." The emotion was coming off of the dark boy in waves, making Arnold sick to his stomach. He thought that if Gerald didn't leave soon, it would suffocate him. The blonde boy nodded, a weak smile appearing.

"I'm sure. I think I just need some rest." _Go away Gerald, please go away!_

Gerald watched Arnold for a few seconds, then nodded and headed towards the cafeteria.

"Okay, man. Hope you feel better," he called as he walked down the hall. Arnold waved as his friend rounded the corner and disappeared down another hallway.

Once his friend was out of sight, the nauseous feeling slowly ebbed away. Arnold finished at his locker and stood there for a moment longer, trying to decide what to do. If he went to the cafeteria, he feared he might pass out from the severe mental assault he'd absorb from the dozens of kids in there. If he went to the nurse, she might want to send him home, where he would be bombarded with the thoughts and emotions of the boarders and his grandparents. With his head pounding thunderously, he didn't want to think about dealing with that. He needed to find someplace with as few people as possible. A place that was quiet. A place like . . .

The library.

Arnold smiled as he started towards the school library, and hoped that it would be deserted. The noise in his head never fully went away anymore, but sometimes, when he was alone, it was better. As he pushed through the double doors at the library entrance, he was thrilled to discover that the chattering in his head did seem to diminish slightly. He breathed a sigh of relief at that, and gave thanks that the place seemed to be empty.

"Why don't you just tell them that you don't like meatloaf?" said a voice from the office behind the counter. Arnold inwardly groaned. Apparently he wasn't the only person here.

"Pfft, yeah right, like they'd really listen, or care!" came a reply in a very familiar voice. "Hel-lo! Do you remember who we're talking about here?" The voices were getting louder as the two headed towards the office door.

"Yes, Helga," Sammy said with a roll of her eyes as she came through the door. The little blonde girl was right behind her, scowling at the back of the librarian's head. The two dropped their lunches on the counter and plopped themselves onto seats behind it. "I'm very aware of who we're talking about. I just thought that MAYBE you'd at least TRY and talk to your parents before coming to me and moaning about whatever it is they did, whether intentionally or unintentionally. I mean, what the heck do you expect ME to do about it? Call up your mother and tell her not to make meatloaf anymore because you don't like it?" It was Helga's turn to roll her eyes.

"Of course not. Criminey," she sneered. "I just thought you'd want to know if I was going to starve to death because my 'wonderful' mother keeps making things I hate." Another eye roll from Sammy.

"Oh for the love of creation," she cried. "You are SUCH a drama queen, you know that? For crying out loud, just go pick up a burger or come to my house for supper. Quit making such a big deal about it. Cripes." Helga scowled.

"Oh, yeah? Well, lemme tell you something, Red, you-"

"I what?" Sammy asked. She turned to Helga only to discover the girl staring toward the entrance. The librarian followed her gaze and found Arnold standing just inside the doors, his head lowered. His fingertips were steadily massaging his temples.

"Arnold?" the girls said in unison. They exchanged a glance and Sammy walked up to the boy, who seemed to be in pain. "Are you all right? What's wrong?" Arnold continued to massage his head, but offered the woman a weak smile.

"Just a headache," he muttered. "A real brain thumper." His knees buckled, and he fell onto Sammy. She caught him, a worried look crossing her face.

"Arnold? Arnold? Oh jeez," the redhead breathed. She turned off all the overhead lights, letting the sunlight from the large windows in the back illuminate the room. "Sometimes this helps. Come over here and sit down. I've got some migraine medicine in the office, it really helps me." She led him to the nearest table and sat him down, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. He gave her a shaky smile.

"Thanks Sammy," he muttered. "Please don't worry about me. It makes my stomach hurt." Sammy gave the boy a questioning glance before heading behind the counter.

"He really doesn't look well," she whispered to Helga before heading into the office. "Please be nice to him, okay?" Helga nodded, her eyes never leaving Arnold. His back was to them, and he continued to massage his head. He often found himself doing it without thinking about it lately.

Arnold's headache was getting worse. The worry he felt from Sammy was even stronger than what he had felt from Gerald. He thought he might throw up soon if she didn't stop. Or pass out. He faintly wondered if passing out would actually be a good thing since it may temporarily quiet the voices. He kind of doubted it, though. They followed him into sleep, so why would passing out be any different?

He realized he was crying again. It didn't really surprise him; between the flood of emotions and thoughts invading his mind and his own constant headache pain, there was plenty to cry about. He absently wiped away the tears with the heels of his hands. Why was this happening to him?

A tissue box suddenly dropped to the table in front of him. A hand reached inside, pulled out two tissues and held them out to him.

"Here," Helga said softly. "Sammy will be out in a minute with the medicine." Arnold looked from the box to the girl beside him.

"Thanks," he said quietly as he reached for the tissues. "I really appreciate—" He gasped sharply. He had touched her hand as he grabbed the tissues, and at that moment, the noise in his head changed. The voices that had been loud and distinct just a few seconds before were now muffled and barely audible. It was as though he were standing in a crowd with his ears stuffed with cotton. Only one voice came through clearly and quietly.

_I wish I could help you feel better, Arnold. _

He stared at Helga with wide eyes.

"Helga," he whispered. "You—"

"Here we go," Sammy called as she came back from the office. The two kids jumped slightly, and separated. "Sorry it took so long, Arnold. The stupid bottle rolled into the deepest, darkest depths of the drawer. I practically had to go spelunking to find it." She handed him two caplets and a glass of water. "These should help you feel better."

"Thanks, Sammy." He swallowed the medicine and downed half the water with one gulp. Sammy took a seat across from him while Helga quietly sat next to him. "I'm feeling better already."

The truth was, he really did feel better, but it had nothing to do with the medicine. For some reason, Helga's touch had quieted the voices. Even after he had let go of her hand, they were still muffled. He couldn't even feel Sammy's worry anymore.

"Are you all right, Arnold?" the librarian asked, voice full of concern. "You really don't look well. Would you like me to take you home?" He shook his head.

"No, I think I'll be okay." Sammy looked doubtful.

"Are you sure? You didn't look 'okay' when you practically passed out in my arms a minute ago." He smiled weakly.

"Well, I wasn't feeling very good before, but I feel a little better now."

The redhead studied him for a moment, then looked at Helga. The girl was sitting quietly next to Arnold, watching him. Her face bore an expression of curiosity, which intrigued Sammy. Just what was going on? She looked back at Arnold.

"Well, you still look pale," she told him. "I think you should probably stay here for a while, just until I'm convinced you're really feeling better and aren't going to pass out in the hall or something." He nodded and gave her that weak smile again.

"Okay, Sammy. That sounds good." Sammy nodded and returned his smile with one of her own.

"Good. I'll leave the lights off for you until your headache goes away. Helga, can I see you in my office for a second?" The girl started as if she were in a light sleep.

"Huh? Oh, okay. Sure."

Sammy gave Arnold's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walked past, and closed the door once she and Helga were in the office.

"What happened out there?" she asked Helga quietly. "He does seem to be feeling a little better. What did you do?" Helga shrugged.

"Nothing really. He sat there for a while rubbing his head, then he started crying for no reason. I got the box of tissues out from under the counter and took it over to him. I handed him a couple and . . ." She frowned.

"And?" Sammy prompted. Helga looked up at her friend, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"I'm not really sure what happened then," she confessed. "I held out a couple tissues for him, he reached for them and grabbed my hand. I felt a little shock, like a static charge, and then he sat there staring at me. I think that's when he started feeling better." Sammy shook her head, confusion crossing her features.

"That doesn't make any sense." Helga shrugged.

"I know. But that's exactly what happened."

The two looked at each other for a moment, hoping that an answer would suddenly surface. When none did, they turned and looked out the office window at the little boy at the table. He was massaging his forehead again.

Arnold's headache was back, with a vengeance. The voices were back as well, and the volume had been cranked up a notch. Whatever Helga had done, if anything, it had worn off quickly. Voices bombarded his brain, one right after another, overlapping, merging, causing one huge pileup of noise. Emotions were flowing over him in waves, making him dizzy and sick to his stomach. He felt feverish and cold, happy and depressed, overwhelming joy and crushing sorrow all at once. The hands that massaged his temples began to shake so violently that he was in danger of knocking himself out.

A low moan was emanating from his lips without his being aware of it, and his whole body was trembling horribly. He clutched his stomach before pitching forward and vomiting. He tried to stand, but instead knocked his chair over and fell to the floor, still trembling. Suddenly Sammy was there, trying to calm him, unaware that her fear and worry were strengthening the attack on the boy. He tried to push her away, her touch supplied a direct conduit for the powerful emotions, but she held him tight. He was screaming incoherently. Sammy was calling to Helga, but before Arnold could see or hear any more his brain shut down and he blissfully passed out.

**~X~X~X~**

_Wake up Arnold._

_. . . . . . ._

_Please wake up._

_. . . Helga? . . ._

_Please wake up and be okay, Arnold. Please, please, please._

" . . . Helga?" Arnold croaked. He tasted bile and his shirt felt sticky. "What happened?"

"Arnold, can you sit up?" Sammy asked softly. She sounded like she was right in front of him. Arnold tried nodding but regretted the decision when his headache protested.

"I think so," he said instead. It took some well-concentrated effort but, with some welcome assistance, he did indeed achieve an upright position. His next challenge-opening his eyes-resulted in another protest from his headache, so he left them closed. "What happened?"

"Have some water, sweetie," Sammy told him, and guided his hands to the glass. The water was refreshingly cool and rinsed the hot, sticky taste of bile from his mouth. "Don't gulp, honey, you'll make yourself sick again. You gave us quite a scare back there."

"What happened?" he asked for the third time. "Why am I sticky?"

"You threw up," Helga said simply. Her voice came from beside him, to his right. "You got it all over yourself and the table. It was pretty amazing."

"You also looked like you were having some kind of seizure or something," Sammy added, the worry evident in her voice. "Arnold, what's going on? Should I call a doctor?" He shook his head, slowly, so as to not aggravate his headache.

"No, I'll be fine." Sammy voiced an annoyed sigh.

"Arnold, you are NOT fine!" she exclaimed, causing Arnold to jump. She lowered her voice but continued in a stern tone. "You came in here looking like someone had jammed an ice pick between your eyes, you nearly pass out in my arms, you seem better then a minute later you puke all over the place, scream your head off and then pass out. How is that 'fine'?"

"A doctor wouldn't help anyway, unless they want to do a lobotomy or sedate me for about a month," he heard himself say. He stopped, finally opening his eyes. Sammy and Helga were looking at him, identical expressions of concern on their faces.

"Arnold, what are you talking about?" Helga asked quietly. "What's going on?"

It was then he realized that the voices were muffled again. Even more so than before. He smiled despite his pounding headache.

"They're quiet," he whispered, joyful tears brimming. "They're quiet!"

"Who's quiet?" Sammy asked, confused.

"The voices," Arnold answered, burying his face in his hands. "The voices are quiet! I can't understand them! They sound so far away . . ." He didn't see Sammy and Helga exchange a worried glance.

"Voices?" Helga asked him. "You're hearing voices in your head?" He nodded, face still buried in his hands. Helga looked at Sammy, fear etched in her young features.

"Oh my God," the librarian breathed. "I'm calling your grandparents." She started towards the phone on the desk when Arnold suddenly jumped and grabbed her wrist.

"NO!" he cried, ignoring the pain in his head. "I'm not crazy! And they're not _those_ kind of voices! They don't tell me to do things or anything, they just . . . talk. They're just there." Sammy looked doubtful. "Really Sammy, they're not what you think!"

"Then what are they?" she asked, prying her wrist from the boy's tight grip. "Tell me Arnold, help me understand."

"They're . . . uh . . . well, they're . . ." He absently rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. The girls were looking at him, waiting for an answer. He sighed. "They're the thoughts of other people," he finished quietly. "I woke up a couple days ago and started hearing people's thoughts." Sammy and Helga exchanged another look.

"You can hear other people's thoughts," Helga repeated. Arnold nodded. "And you don't want us to think you're crazy?" He shrugged as he sat down on the couch he had woken up on.

"I'm not. It started with just bits and pieces, and only from the people near me. Now I'm getting full thoughts, even from people who aren't close. I've also been getting their emotions. It gets very loud inside my head and sometimes the feelings are hard to control." He paused to wipe away the tears that had begun flowing freely again. He didn't mind. It felt good to finally tell someone. Even if they couldn't make it go away, it felt good just to let go of this secret. "I have a pretty bad headache almost constantly now because of the noise in there. It never stops, even when I'm asleep." He looked up at the girls, a small smile curling his lips. "But they're muffled now. It happened before too, when I touched Helga."

The girl turned bright red as a fierce blush crossed her face. She looked from Arnold to Sammy and shrugged violently.

"What?" she cried. "I didn't do anything!"

"You were the only person I couldn't 'hear', Helga," Arnold said quietly. "I could hear everyone else's thoughts very clearly, but yours were fuzzy. I could only get a few words that didn't make much sense in the beginning, and when full thoughts started coming from others, I didn't get _anything_ from you." He frowned, his fingers back to massaging his temples. His headache was still there, and he could both feel and hear the voices regaining their strength and volume.

"When we touched earlier, the voices got quiet. I heard you then, Helga. I heard only your thought. You wanted to make me feel better." He smiled at her, and she slowly returned it. "But it didn't last long and they came back all at once. I think that's why I got sick. I felt like I was hit with a baseball bat, and all the emotions made my stomach hurt. Then, when Sammy touched me, it was like I was being electrocuted. I know she didn't mean to but it hurt so bad!" He was crying harder. "I know you were only trying to help, Sammy, but you were so worried and scared, and when you touched me I felt like your emotions would rip me apart if you didn't let go!"

"I'm so sorry, Arnold, I didn't know!" the redhead cried, looking on the verge of tears herself. The boy was obviously in so much pain. It hurt Sammy's heart to know that there was nothing she could do to help him.

"So what do we do?" Helga asked quickly, looking at Sammy. "How can we help? Is there some doctor we can take him to?" She turned to Arnold. "What if we go to Elk Island until all the voices go away? Would that help?" He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter where I am, I still hear them," he said, sniffling. "They never fully go away anymore." He rested his elbows on his knees and furiously massaged his forehead. "They're coming back," he moaned. "They just keep getting louder. Why is this happening to me? Why won't they just go away?"

Sammy and Helga watched helplessly as Arnold flopped sideways on the couch and curled into the fetal position. His head was in his hands, eyes clamped tightly closed. He moaned softly as tears streamed down his cheeks. Helga turned to her older friend and grabbed the librarian's shirt in her fists.

"We've gotta do something!" she cried, tears coming to her eyes. "He can't hold out much longer!" Sammy placed her hands over Helga's and looked the girl in the eyes.

"I _can't _do anything!" she whispered harshly. "I can't touch him or else my emotions will hurt him more! _You_ helped him before, do it again!" Helga shook her head sharply.

"What if that was a fluke? What if I—" Sammy grabbed the girl by the shoulders and gave her a sharp shake.

"There's no time for 'what if', Helga!" she cried. "_Just try!_"

Sammy practically threw the girl to the couch where Arnold was suffering. Helga stumbled to her knees, and half crawled to the edge of the cushion where Arnold cradled his head tightly in his hands.

"Arnold?" Helga called softly. "Arnold, can you hear me?" She was answered with a sob.

"Helga . . ." he whimpered. ". . . so loud . . . it hurts . . ." Her heart twisted.

"It's going to be okay, Arnold," she said, reaching forward slowly. "We'll figure something out."

She rested her hand on his trembling shoulder. The response was instantaneous. He jerked as if shocked, then was still. The grimace of pain that had taken hold of Arnold's face was gone. He slowly opened his eyes, and released his head.

"They're quiet again," he whispered. "They're still there, but . . . they're so quiet." He smiled at Helga, who gave Sammy an uncertain look. The redhead wore a thoughtful expression as she surveyed the scene.

"I think it's your touch, Helga," she said after a moment of thought. "He said the voices were muffled after you two touched earlier, right Arnold?" The boy nodded as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. "And now, in the throes of a very painful 'attack', for lack of a better word, the only thing that stopped it was your touch. For some reason Helga, you seem to be the only thing that can push the voices and emotions back. Does that sound right, Arnold?" He nodded again and looked at Helga.

"I don't understand it either, Helga, but you make it better," he told her. She shook her head slowly.

"Why me?" she whispered. "Why would my touch be so special?" Sammy cleared her throat loudly.

"Well, I'm not sure that's important right now," she said as she headed toward the office door. "Arnold, you stay here and rest. Helga, stay close to him in case the pain comes back. I'm going to see about finding a new set of clothes for him, and try to figure out why this is happening. Oh, hang on." She turned and headed back to her desk, quickly searched inside a drawer and pulled out a sign that read 'Closed'. "I'll make sure the library stays empty so Arnold can get some rest." The boy gave her the first genuine smile she had seen from him all day.

"Thanks, Sammy," he said in a shaky voice. "I'm sorry for all the trouble and that I threw up out there." The redhead waved a hand.

"Eh, don't worry about that for a second. I managed to clean up most of it while you were out earlier, and the rest I'll get later. Not a big deal. You just get some rest, okay?" He smiled again and nodded.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Not a problem, sweetie," she said with a smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She headed out towards the double entrance doors when a shaky hand grabbed her wrist.

"It's because I love him, isn't it?" Helga whispered. "That's why my touch helps. Because of how much I care for him." Sammy shrugged as she shook her head.

"Honestly, I don't know, Helga," she replied quietly. "But that could very well be the reason. It could be that you two share a cosmic connection that bonds you together stronger than any human emotions could." She paused. "Of course, it could also be something completely coincidental, like you share the same blood type, or because you're both blonde, or because you're both left-handed. Of course, I'm left-handed too, so there goes that theory."

Helga glared at her. Sammy smiled as she bent closer to her young friend.

"I'm just kidding, you little booger," she said quietly. "I honestly have no idea why you're so special in this instance, but I think the most important thing is the fact that you _do_ help him. But I'm sure your feelings for him don't hurt anything, though." She winked. "I'll be back soon. You'd better get back in there and make sure he stays comfortable." Helga nodded.

"Okay. I hope you find something out."

"So do I, Helga. So do I."

Helga watched as Sammy pinned the sign to the outside of the doors and headed out in search of a new set of clothes for Arnold. She then turned and slowly walked back to the office.

"Well, she's off," Helga said as she returned to the office. "Don't worry, Arnold. Sammy will find something out, I'm sure of it." He smiled weakly.

"I really hope so, Helga. I'm not sure how much longer I can take this."

They sat in silence for a while, each enveloped in their own thoughts. Arnold had lay down again, hoping to dislodge the monstrous ice pick that had implanted itself deeply within his frontal lobe. Helga sat at the desk, and spent her time alternating between doodling and watching her beloved rest.

"Arnold?" she called softly.

"Hmm?" he answered without moving.

"Do the thoughts you hear sound like the people they're from?" He furrowed his brow as he considered this.

"A little," he replied, eyes still closed. "I recognize the people I know by what they say and how they say it, and I think my own mind fills in the correct voice because I know what they sound like. But the others, the ones I don't know, they don't have a distinct 'voice'. I think it's just my own mind filling in the blanks." He paused, frowning. "Does that make sense? I've never tried to put it into words." Helga smiled.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I was just curious."

Silence reigned again.

"Helga?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here." She was thankful he was still lying with his eyes closed because she felt she turned at least three shades of red. "You make it better. If you hadn't been here earlier, I might not—"

"You would have dealt with it, Arnold," she interrupted. "Don't sell yourself short. You're a strong guy. You can beat this." He uttered a short laugh.

"I'm not so sure about that. I'm not as strong as you." It was Helga's turn to laugh.

"You'd probably pass out from laughter if you ever found how just how 'strong' I really am, Arnold. Sometimes things aren't always what they seem to be." Her tone made him sit up and look at her. She was scribbling furiously on a notepad. Arnold wondered if she was actually talking to him, or to herself.

"Sometimes the outside is just a mask, Arnold. Sometimes people are ugly on the inside, full of hate and rage and sadness and loneliness and a longing to be someone else. Anyone else. So they create a mask that will keep all those terrible things secret and spare others the horror of seeing the truth. The mask is supposed to protect against pain. It's supposed to make you strong. It's supposed to, but it doesn't." She stopped suddenly, threw the pen into the corner, and buried her face in her hands. "It makes you weak because you can't show your true feelings in any situation. You have to stay strong, just like your mask shows."

She sighed heavily, and sniffed. Arnold felt great waves of sadness emanating from the little girl at the desk, and knew she was trying very hard to keep from crying. He suddenly realized Sammy was standing in the doorway, quietly watching Helga. She shook her head at his questioning glance and placed a finger to her lips.

"I'm not strong," Helga continued, her voice slightly muffled by her hands. "I'm ugly on the inside, so I put on a mask to pretend that nothing hurts me. I'm mean and selfish and angry and hateful and lonely and jealous and I wish it was me who heard the voices and felt the emotions because I'm used to hiding pain and suffering in silence and maybe I could deal with it easier and better and then Arnold would be okay and he wouldn't . . ."

The rest was lost in her sobs as her tears came suddenly and forcefully, making her frail body tremble. Sammy moved to the desk quickly, dropping the clothes she had brought on the chair as she went.

"Shh, it's okay, Helga, calm down," the librarian soothed as she pulled the little girl into her arms. Helga continued to sob as she clutched the woman's shirt.

"I wish it was me, I wish it was me, I wish it was me!" the girl sobbed. "Arnold never hurt anybody, he always does the right thing, why would something so awful happen to him? It should have happened to me! I deserve it! I deserve to be miserable!"

"Helga, calm down!" Sammy cried as she held the hysterical girl. She looked at Arnold helplessly. "I don't think I've ever seen her this bad!" Unsure of what to do, Arnold walked forward and reached out to Helga.

"Helga, it's okay," he said as he touched her back. "You shouldn't—"

Suddenly, all three of them cried out. Arnold jumped back and cradled his hand to his chest. Sammy released Helga and stumbled backwards until she hit the wall behind her. Helga's knees buckled and sent her to the floor. Her arms were drawn up as a protective shield across her chest. The trio stayed where they were for a few seconds, breathing hard.

"What just happened?" Sammy asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Arnold shook his head slowly.

"I don't know, but that felt kind of like what happened when Helga touched me the first time."

"Only more powerful," Helga added. "When we touched it was like a static shock, no big deal. But that . . ."

"That was no static charge," Sammy said. "That was more like a downed power line. Are you two okay?" Both kids nodded.

"I think so," Arnold said.

"Yeah, I think I'm okay," Helga replied. "Are you okay, Sam?" The redhead was shaking her head as if she had water in her ears.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," she said, still shaking her head. "As soon as the ringing stops." Arnold paled.

"Ringing?" he asked worriedly. "Helga, do you have a ringing too?" Helga appeared to listen.

"Yeah, I guess I do." Arnold sat heavily on the couch.

"Oh, no."

"What's wrong?" Sammy asked as she picked up the clothes she had brought. He looked at each of them, tears coming to his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know I could." The girls exchanged a questioning glance.

"What are you talking about, Arnold?" Helga asked, getting to her feet. She stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it. The ringing was getting louder.

"I'm so, so sorry!" he cried again, the tears falling faster. "I wish I could take it back!"

"Arnold, you're not making sen—" Sammy stopped, staring at him with wide eyes. "Oh, no. Oh, no no nononononono!" Helga looked from Arnold to Sammy as the finger in her ear wiggled faster.

"What are you two talking about?" she demanded. Sammy looked at her.

_Helga, can you hear me?_

"Of course I can hear you, you're right . . . in front . . . of . . ." Helga's eyes widened.

Sammy's mouth didn't move.

"Oh, no," Helga groaned.

* * *

_Sorry for the sudden ending but you can look at it like a Twilight Zone episode. Vague ending that doesn't really wrap things up._

_Okay, so I'm just making things up. Enjoy what there is._


End file.
